


atop a winter-withered reed

by underratedkings



Series: mångata [5]
Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Falling In Love, Fantasy, First Meetings, Fluff, Herbalism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underratedkings/pseuds/underratedkings
Summary: ....King is a witch, content to spend his days healing the ill and wounded, but prefers the forest and plants as his company. An odd, silent stranger disrupts his simple life.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Series: mångata [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669189
Comments: 13
Kudos: 195





	atop a winter-withered reed

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a series and a universe I've created through that series. It can be read on its own, but I do recommend reading the other parts to understand more of the setting and lore involved-- especially if you are a fan of other BLs. Enjoy!

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King closed his eyes, reveling in the frosty breeze that cooled the warm sun on his skin.

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, then let it out in one huff, marching off from the front of his little hut and into the forest. Autumn leaves were crunching under each step, the trees lighting up the forest with reds and yellows as if each leaf had captured the sun.

The snow would begin before too long. King did not mind it as much as others. The snow was beautiful, transformative, if not a little inconvenient. He wriggled the basket further up onto his arm and kept trudging on.

He walked for hours, smiling at the birds that raced by and the deer that weaved through the trees. This is where King felt most at home, alone with nature surrounding him, blocking out the rest of the world.

King paused, foot still hovering in the air. There, sitting sadly just to his left, was a young fern that appeared to have been stomped on. Several leaves were broken and drooping, flattened to the dirt. King pouted; ferns were one of his favorites.

Kneeling next to the poor thing, he pulled some fresh thyme from his pouch, crushing it gently between both hands before blowing through his fists, a glittering cloud of magic escaping and covering the crushed plant.

It took a second, but soon the fern began to mend, broken leaves stitching themselves back together and any sign of wilting vanished. Satisfied, King smiled, pet the fern gently, then went on his way.

The witch had an extra skip in his step when he arrived at his favorite herb garden—he had several around the woods he had been planting for years—and saw his last gathering of the season would be plentiful.

“Look how well you’ve grown,” he cooed, stroking a good-looking sprig of sage before picking a few leaves off.

“And look at you! Best bunch of garlic bulbs I’ve ever seen!” He went to each herb, chatting with them, making sure they all knew how great they were. They had all grown up so well. King couldn’t wait for next spring!

Once his basket was full, he pulled his seed pouch from his belt and held it between his hands, palms pressed together.

“I thank the forest for such a bountiful gathering,” he said, smiling up to the sky. “What would you like in return? Perhaps some basil? Ooh! Some wild mint and lemon balm? And…hm…some nice rosemary! That sounds lovely, don’t you think?” He spread the afore mentioned seeds into the dirt, pushing them gently into the ground.

“These will freeze through winter and begin their growth next spring, as always. Ah, how lucky I am to call such a lovely wood my home!” He bowed once more to his newly planted seeds, wishing them well, before turning to grab his basket.

Only to find himself nose to nose with a stranger.

_“Ah!”_

King reeled back, falling onto his bottom, thankfully avoiding crushing any of his herbs. The stranger did not even flinch. He just sat, still as a statue.

He was pale, obviously of mixed blood, with very strong and masculine features. Clear eyes sat beneath thick brows, dense black hair falling softly onto his forehead, leading down to a sharp chin. His face was expressionless and cold.

He only wore a pair of leather trousers, miles of pale skin glowing in the late morning light, broken up only by dark, inky tattoos dotted around his body.

King’s eyes darted left, then right, then back to the man, not quite sure what to do.

“Um…hello?” the witch tried. He sat upright, rubbing his nose, pink from the cold. The stranger still had not moved. “My name is King, healer and master of witchcraft. What’s yours?” No response. “You look foreign! Are you from these lands? Plus, you…” King inhaled, catching a strange scent, then sniffed again, leaning in toward the stranger, sniffing.

“What are you? I’ve never smelled anything quite like you!” It was true; the stranger smelled of the forest and of its magic, but also strangely human. “You smell a bit like an Elf, but…no, that’s not quite right…” The stranger _still_ had not moved. He did not even seem cold in his bare state.

“Wait, do you speak common tongue?” King ran a hand through his long hair.

 _“Hello, what’s your name?”_ he tried Elven. Nothing. Maybe Eastern? Madjinn? Coruk dialect? King kept rambling, exhausting every language he knew until the stranger raised an unimpressed brow.

“I speak common tongue.”

King nearly jumped from his skin.

“Oi! You do speak! Then, what about my questions? What are you? You look like a mixed blood, but you smell of these lands! And of magic!”

“…”

Back to silence, it seems.

“Well, what about your name, then?” King implored. “If you do not tell me, I’ll have to come up with one for you. How about…Cool Boy?” The stranger’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yes, I think it is perfect. A youthful face, yet cold as the icy winter winds.” King smiled bright.

“Say, Cool Boy, are you the one who’s been watching me?” King asked. He had noticed eyes on him the past few weeks, but he had chalked it up to a curious beast, hiding in the brush as the witch walked the forest. “You could have just come and said hello!”

Suddenly, the stranger grabbed King’s wrist and stood, yanking the witch with him. Cool Boy turned and began pulling him, dragging him from his herbs.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!” The witch was ignored and was far too weak to fight Cool Boy’s steel grip. He was quite strong, King had noticed, his torso rippling with muscle. He had no choice but to let himself be dragged; his protests ignored. He clutched his herb basket tighter.

King heard them before he saw them; growls and barks and yelps echoing through the trees. Soon, they broke through the wood to a clearing stretching before a cave, a pack of wolves milling about. Their heads and eyes perked up and zeroed in on the new arrivals.

King’s eyes grew wide, his breath quickening as he began clawing at Cool Boy’s grip on him.

“No, no, please, stop! W-wolves, no wolves, no dogs, stop!”

Cool Boy kept pulling even as King fought tooth and nail before the witch finally collapsed, his knees going weak in fear. Cool Boy finally seemed to realize something was very wrong and released King’s wrist.

The witch scrambled back until his back hit the trunk of a tree, body trembling as he stared at the wolves. Their sharp teeth glinted as they licked their chomps, claws digging into the forest floor as they paced around the witch, kicking up frost.

King curled up, pulling his shaking legs to his chest, but could not tear his eyes from the dogs. Cool Boy crouched, coming closer.

“No, no, no, no, please, Cool Boy, please! The wolves, they, they—” Cool Boy reached out a hand, perhaps to comfort the witch, but King flinched away, terrified of being dragged closer to the wolves. His chest was burning as he kept heaving in icy cold air.

Slowly, gently, Cool Boy reached his hand and laid it on King’s knee; a gesture of comfort, a promise. Finally, King broke his gaze from the wolves and looked at Cool Boy.

Cool Boy turned and pointed to the largest wolf, laying toward the mouth of the cave. The beast was massive, but that was not what Cool Boy was trying to tell him.

“A direwolf,” King breathed, heart racing and blood rushing. “It’s hurt.” Cool Boy nodded. “You want me to help it.” Another nod. “Cool Boy, I can’t, I’m sorry, I—I can’t even move.” King looked away. “I’m afraid. I was attacked, as a child, ever since then…”

Cool Boy did not speak, but he offered his other hand for King to take, if he chooses. King was beginning to be able to decipher Cool Boy’s language. He was offering, promising, that if King chose to do this, Cool Boy would be there by his side.

King took a deep breath. He was a healer, this was his duty! Even if it was a huge, terrifying killing machine with teeth like needles and claws like daggers…

The witch shook his head and grabbed Cool Boy’s hand before he changed his mind. Cool Boy helped him stand, King practically plastering himself to his back, hiding ineffectively from the wolves.

He gripped Cool Boy’s hand hard enough to bruise, fingernails digging as they slowly made their way through the wolves and across the clearing. Once they had reached the direwolf, King jerked a little on Cool Boy’s arm.

“Cool Boy?” He turned to the witch. “Hold its head, please? Just…just in case.” Cool Boy gave him a look, but nodded, prying himself from King’s grip and rounding the direwolf’s body to the head.

Carefully, King approaches the direwolf’s hind leg, kneeling to observe the large, gaping wound in its flank. It was red and leaking, swollen and clearly infected.

“Ok,” King breathed. “Ok, you can do this. Ok, ok…”

King pulled some fresh garlic from his basket and dried turmeric from a vial on his belt, pulling out his little mortar and pestle to grind them together. Once they were mixed, King drizzled some honey to create a paste, slowly, gently applying it to the wound.

King’s heart nearly stopped when the burn of the poultice drew a pained growl from the direwolf, but Cool Boy was there, stroking its—her, King could now see—head, whispering something calming into her ear.

Placing his palms together, King began to whisper a spell, hair and cloak beginning to whip and fly as his magic came forth. His hands began to glow green, the poultice on the wound responding in kind.

King kept whispering until the glow dissipated, his hair and cloak falling, leaving the wound crusted over, the first layer of skin knitted back together and all signs of infection gone.

A wave of dizziness crashed over King, making him fall back a bit, trying to catch himself. Cool Boy was by his side in an instant, looking concerned. King shook his head, reminding himself up from down while the world spun around him.

“I’m fine,” King told Cool Boy, breathing through the wooziness. “There, all done! See, easy! I am an immensely powerful witch, after all! She’ll be fine, though she should rest for a few weeks, so the wound does not tear again. Can we… _please_ leave now?”

And they did, Cool Boy leading King back to his hut, solidifying the idea that Cool Boy had indeed been the one watching him these past few weeks.

“Well, it was lovely and…terrifying meeting you,” King told him, hefting his herb basket further under his arm. He leaned in one last time, sniffing in his new friend’s scent. “’Sure you will not tell me what exactly you are?”

“…”

“Yes, of course not,” King said with a laugh, smiling wide. “No worries, you needn’t talk if you do not want! Perhaps one day, I will be someone you deem worthy to talk to!” With that, King walked to his hut, turning to give Cool Boy a wave. “Until next time!”

“Thank you.”

King froze, then spun back around with a blinding grin.

“Of course! After all, I am quite a powerful witch!”

….

“Dearie, we cannot thank you enough!”

“Of course, madam! It is what I do!”

The sweet old lady shoved another pair of sweet potatoes into King’s basket, despite his protests. He had cured her and her husband of a lingering whooping cough that had prevented them from caring for their granddaughter’s fever, which King had also cured.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me!” He kept waving as he disappeared into the forest, until he was sure he was out of sight.

His arm went limp, basket falling to the forest floor, King no longer able to hold his body upright. He collapsed down, head hitting the dirt with a thud. His body was covered in a cold sweat, his head a fog of nausea and vertigo he could no longer fight.

Rolling over, King forced himself to his hands and knees to vomit into the leaves, stomach heaving as he continued to gag. His arms were beginning to fail, but he desperately did not want to fall forward into his own bile.

Suddenly, hands were on his back and wrapped around his waist, pulling him back and laying him down gently. Forcing his eyes open, the whirling face of Cool Boy was floating above him.

“Cool Boy,” he mumbled. He smiled, despite how gross he felt. “’Knew I’see you ‘gain.” Cool Boy was silent, as usual, carefully stroking King’s forehand, brushing his sweaty bangs back.

King felt himself fading, but there was the sensation of being lifted, floating in Cool Boy’s arms as he was carried away, before all was black.

….

When King woke again, he was home, laying tucked into his bed. His limbs were heavy, but he did not feel as if he were dying, which he could appreciate. He took a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, bracing himself for another bout of nausea if it came.

Cool Boy was by his side, King noticed, his mind still moving a bit slow. He helped King prop himself up against the headboard. He had a cup of water he started feeding King, the witch taking grateful sips.

“Mm, Cool Boy,” King said, his thoughts catching up. “You brought me back here? I suppose I owe you thanks.” Cool Boy ignored him, placing down the cup and picking up a cool rag to dab King’s forehead, standing to take the bowl, changing out the water.

Cool Boy did not seem to mind the jungle that was King’s hut, carefully side stepping each plant and vine. Ferns hung from the beams, cacti grew up the corners, ivy snaked along the furniture, each beautiful and exotic in their own right, many of them from foreign lands.

King loved each and every one of them.

Cool Boy returned, King on his best behavior as his handsome friend tended to him, dabbing his forehead with the fresh rag. Eventually, he put the bowl to the side and gave King a look.

“What?” Cool Boy kept looking. “I will be fine! I’m sure it was nothing. Perhaps, I ate something rotten?” Cool Boy was not impressed, and King deflated.

“Fine,” he pouted. “I…may have bluffed a tiny bit when I…called myself a _powerful_ witch.” King paused, then sighed. “I am actually quite weak. See, I was born with very little natural power; most of my strength comes from my herbs and plants. So…it takes a toll.”

Cool Boy’s brow furrowed, looking like he had much to say, but his lips remained sealed.

“Over on my workbench,” King motioned. “My enchanted quill, no need for ink! You can use it to write.” Cool Boy looked surprised, but stood and followed his direction, bring a piece of parchment with him. He wrote deliberately, handing the parchment to King.

_No more healing_

“What?!” King exclaimed. “I cannot stop healing, Cool Boy! I am a healer, a practitioner of witchcraft! These people will need help, especially in the winter months!” Cool Boy snatched the parchment back. 

_It hurts you_

“I have been dealing with this since I was a child! And…it’s not usually so severe.” Cool Boy gave him a look, urging him to continue. “I come from a long line of witches, _strong_ witches. I had to learn to adapt in order not bring dishonor to my family.” Cool Boy looked down, brow furrowed again. “Oi, Cool Boy! It’s alright! Trust me, this is what I do. And I am good at it!”

Cool Boy looked up into King’s eyes with the softest look. King’s humor fell away, looking into shining dark eyes, reflection of the candles dancing in them like stars. Then, the parchment was held out again.

_My name is Ram_

King stared at it for a while before smiling, laughing.

“Ram,” King read. “I like it!” The ghost of a smile lit up Ram’s face. “So, Ram, does this make us friends?” King did not get an answer. Instead, Ram stood and made his way out of the hut, the front door closing with a thud.

“Oi, Ram! Cool Boy, wait!” A head peaked back in. King smirked. “See you soon!” Ram rolled his eyes, disappearing through the door.

….

King and Ram met several times since then; usually, he would wait for King at the forest’s border whenever the witch went into the village to heal. If it were a bad day, Ram would swoop King into his arms, carry him back to the hut, and fix them both some tea.

King, however, still did not know what Ram was. He had pulled every book he could think of, but still did not have an answer. He was no Elf in any sense, nor was he Fae. He had questioned if he was part forest god, but that did not add up either. He was not Fairy, or Druid, or anything else King had found. He was well and truly stumped.

Still, he considered Ram a friend, helping him with his reading and writing, teaching him about everything from herbs to tying knots to knitting. Ram was an eager student, though a stoic one.

The days grew shorter and colder, what leaves were left having long since fallen, leaving the trees nothing but bones. Snow was beginning to fall, and the winds were picking up speed as he shouldered the fish he had caught, ready to make his way home.

As he turned himself west, he was hit with a face full of wind.

“Oi!” he exclaimed, the wind vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. King looked around before trying to walk against. Another, massive gust knocked him back a few steps. King gave a frustrated huff, breath leaving a fog.

The forest did not want him going that way.

“You do not want me home? Why?” he spoke to the woods. Another gust flew by, carrying leaves along with it. King’s eyes followed the leaves up into the sky, spotting a dark-as-night spot in the clouds, quickly coming his way.

“A blizzard,” he mumbled. He would not make it to his hut in time before it hit full force.

“Alright,” King conceded, “where would you like me to go?” The wind picked up again, pushing him the opposite direction from his hut, down the river. King followed where the forest led him.

Before long, as the wind was getting harsher and the snow falling harder, King spotted it; a cave, just off the riverbank. King made a break for it, ducking into the mouth, his cloak giving one last whip as he was finally safely hidden from the wind.

King was shivering at this point, wrapping his cloak tight, his fish long gone icy. He made his way deeper into the cave and into darkness. As he walked, he noticed a sour scent polluting the air.

Finding a branch, he pulled some cumin from his belt and threw it on the end, whispering a quick spell and watching it ignite as his torch.

The further he went and the stronger the stench became, the more he noticed signs of life already in the cave; footprints in the dust, a bone or two thrown into a corner, a fur laid out on the ground. There, against a curve in the wall, he saw a lump of what looked like a body laying by a long burnt out fire.

Walking to the body, dropping his things, he saw the face of Ram, sweaty and flushed with nothing to cover him. He dropped his torch to the stone floor.

“Cool Boy!” King ripped off his cloak, throwing it over Ram, placing hands against his cheeks. Ram was sweating, but the fever had already run ramped through his body. His lips were starting to turn blue, and his body did not even have the strength to shiver. His heart was slow and weak.

Ram must have been lying here, ill, for days. He was dying.

“No, no, Cool Boy, Ram,” King started to panic. Thinking quickly, he pulled at his belt, vials spilling to the cave floor as he searched for something to help him.

He fumbled, placing some cloves and slices of dried ginger under Ram’s bottom lip, sprinkling black pepper and dried holy basil across his forehead. He placed his trembling hands together.

“By the gods, please,” King breathed. “Give him back to me.”

He gently grabbed Ram’s cold hands and began to cast his spell. His voice was shaking but firm as he could make it, words flowing like water from his lips. Tears were pricking at his eyes.

His hair and clothes whipped around his as magic surrounded them, King feeling his energy drain from his core and pour into Ram. His voice raised in volume, practically shouting the spell, magic and green light swirling around them in a cyclone.

Slowly, Ram’s face and skin regained life, his lips returning to their normal, pink color. His chest began rising and falling with deeper breaths, eyes fluttering as the illness was driven from him.

King soon became too weak to continue, the magic around them dying out as he faded. This time, there was no dizziness, no nausea, only numbness as he floated from his body.

Ram’s eyes fluttered open.

“King!”

….

Prying his eyes open felt like the largest task King had ever taken on.

He just sat for a long while, drifting through the fog, watching light dance behind his eyelids. It was peaceful like this, no worries, except he knew something was wrong. Eventually, he decided it was time to remember where he was and what he was doing and forced his eyes to crack.

At first, all he saw was yellow light, his brow furrowing and his head beginning to pound. He groaned, then heard shuffling from somewhere close by. Footsteps approached, and a body entered King’s space.

“King?” He knew that voice; barely, but he did. A hand brushed against his forehead, smoothing his hair back. “King, are you awake?”

Compelling his eyes further open, his vision cleared to an awfully familiar sight. Ram was hovering above him, a concerned expression settled on his heavy brow. He went away for a moment, King turning his head to follow him. He ran to the mouth of the cave, returning after a moment with King’s water skin in hand.

Holding King’s head up with a gentle grip, he tipped the skin to trickle water between the witch’s lips. King gulped greedily, Ram shushing him with care. King pressed his dry, flaking lips together, his whole body beginning to feel like lead as he woke up.

“You should not have done that.” The voice surprised King, even in his exhausted state.

“You were dying, Cool Boy,” King said with a knowing smile, his throat sore and achy. “Surely you did not think I would let that happen?”

He looked at Ram, who was gazing back at King with the most tender eyes. He quickly looked away, goosebumps racing across his skin. The other was practically glowing in the light of the fire.

“You have been asleep for three days,” Ram spoke firmly. “I did not know when…or if you were going wake.”

“…I will not apologize for saving your life, Ram.”

“And I would have never forgiven you if you had lost yours doing so.”

King reached a feeble hand to Ram, feeling like it took all his will power to do so. Ram took pity on him, moving closer and taking his hand.

“Well,” King said, tone lighter. “No worries, right? Because we are both here, alive. Moreover, you are talking to me now.” He flipped his hand over, intertwining their fingers together. They looked at one another, eyes connecting, an understanding passing through them.

Giving his hand a final squeeze and a “rest now,” Ram stood and left the cave, leaving King to doze off again.

When King woke again, he felt much stronger, though his limbs still felt like noodles. He could not sit up yet, but shifted to where he could see Ram, crouching by the fire cooking some fish. They sat like that for a long while, no one speaking.

“You were here for days, alone,” King rasped out, his voice barely more than a dry whisper. “Why did you not send for me?” Ram paused, then sighed heavily.

“My father was a young lord. He loved my mother, and his children, until he…didn’t. Or perhaps it was always a façade. Even if it wasn’t, it became one later on. He fell in love with a handmaiden, and wanted nothing to do with us. He banished my mother back to her homelands, he bastardized and disowned me and my baby brother, declaring us illegitimate.

“I ran, taking my brother with me. I left him to a little family in a peaceful village. I hope…that they raised him well. And that he is happy. I have not seen him since then. I ran away into the forest, and the forest welcomed me. The wood and its creatures raised me.”

“How old were you?”

“…nine, I think.”

“Oh, Ram.”

“I am sorry, King,” Ram whispered, head lowering. “I did not send for you because I did not want you to see me as I truly am. The truth is…I am only a human the wood gifted with its magic. I am no halfling, no forest god or Fairy or Elf…I am just a mortal the forest took pity on. I am sorry, I am nothing special.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I…did not want you to lose interest in me.”

“Come here, Ram,” King reached for him. “Please?” Ram did not move at first, but after a moment he took the fish off the fire and shuffled closer to King.

King reached up with shaky arms, cupping Ram’s face in his palms, stroking his cheek bones with his thumbs.

“You are the best person I know,” King breathed. “You are kind and steadfast and loving, and so special. I could never lose interest in you. After all, you never lost interest in a foolish witch, who puts himself in harm’s way more often than not.” 

King’s hand trailed down, fingertips ghosting over the tattoo on Ram’s neck, goosebumps raising across his bare chest.

“King…”

“I owe you everything, Ram.”

A tear fell from Ram’s eye onto King’s face, Ram reaching to wipe it away. He leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of King’s head. King lifted his chin, offering.

Ram leaned down, pressing his lips so softly against King’s. It was dry and warm, but Ram felt perfect in King’s arms, and their chests were bursting with joy, their hearts beating in tandem. It did not last long, Ram pulling away to smile down at King.

“I cannot believe you kissed me when I am so disgusting,” King laughed. He could feel the crust in his eyes, the cracks along his lips, the dried sweat sticking his clothes to his skin, the grease in his hair; and Ram kissed _that_.

“You are never disgusting,” Ram said, laying down next to King and snuggling into his side.

To think, his Cool Boy had softened into such a sweetheart.

The blizzard ended the next morning, the constant roar of the wind finally fading away for good and the sun breaking through the clouds. Ram carried King on his back through the thick, powdery blanket the storm had left behind, as always, his bare feet and bare torso impervious to the cold.

When they finally reached the hut, he softly laid King onto his bed, lit a fire, and put the kettle over the flames. Once they had enjoyed some herbal tea and dried berries, King took Ram’s hand in his own and asked him to stay.

Ram found he could not deny him.

….

Days later saw Ram arriving at King’s hut, a string of trout slung over his shoulder. The front door banged shut behind him, revealing King skipping around his workbench, throwing this and that into his cauldron.

“Oi, Cool Boy! What did you catch for dinner?” Ram held up the trout, and King smiled in triumph, stirring his concoction with vigor. “Very nice work, my icy prince!” Ram placed the fish into a bucket and grabbed a knife, getting to work scaling them.

“You know, ever since that blizzard, I have been feeling wonderful!” King went on. “Not dizzy once, thank the gods! Who knows, perhaps that little stunt I pulled has made me stronger!” Ram’s eyes narrowed as he dropped the fish and approached King, stopping only inches from the witch.

“Um, R-Ram?”

Ram put a hand flat against King’s chest, leaning closer, feeling the witch’s breath hitch. Ram closed his eyes, reaching deep into King’s core. His eyes snapped open.

“The forest,” Ram said, “has given you magic.”

“What?”

“Just like it did me.” Ram took King’s hand, pressing it against his own chest and letting King feel the energy zipping beneath his skin.

“…how?”

“Powers like the forest are ancient, as you know. They only give gifts to those they deem worthy.” Ram leaned closer, pressing his forehead to King’s. “And you sacrificed your life to save a child of the forest. In return, the forest has gifted you the power to do your work without risk.”

King looked up at him with bright, shining eyes, noses brushing.

“And what about you? Do you deem me worthy?”

Ram did not answer. Instead, his eyes flicked down before he captured King’s lips in a searing kiss.

King snaked his arms around Ram’s bare, broad shoulders, digging into beautiful fair skin. One hand trailed down to his upper arm, tracing the inky lines etched there.

Ram’s hands found King’s hip, lifting him up and onto the table, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. King’s tongue was hot against his, moving with passion and fervor, King locking his ankles around Ram’s waist. King gave a pleased sound when Ram gave a well-placed nip to his bottom lip.

King broke away, but Ram was not having it. He dove into to have his way with King’s neck, the witch letting out a breathy sigh.

“Cool Boy,” King rasped. “Take me to bed…but do not step on my plants.”

Ram smirked against his skin, giving a firm bite that pulled a delicious sound out of his King. He lifted the witch, carrying him to their bed, both giggling all the way, hitting the bed heavily.

“You are beautiful.”

“Stop that, Cool Boy, just kiss me.” King leaned back in, but Ram pulled away. “Ram?”

“You understand me.”

“Eh?”

Ram sat up, pulling King into his lap, flushing their bodies chest to chest.

“You are the only one to ever, completely understand me. You are worthy, worthy of the world, the moon and the stars… I worship you.”

Ram let his head fall forward, pressing kisses into King’s chest over his tunic. King’s eyes were welling with tears once again. 

“I am so lucky, Ram, so lucky to get to love you.”

The two fell back again, finding themselves perfectly against one another, as if nature itself molded them as a set.

Between the two of them, in the little world they created for themselves, through their connection to nature and the forest they loved, between the love they shared for each other.

They understood.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends, stick around if you want a rant. If not, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Long story short, there is a reason I did not include or mention any other characters from My Engineer in this story.
> 
> Ok, I wanted to get this written and posted before the series ended, if purely for the fact that I love Ram and King and their dynamic. However, I have several bones to pick with My Engineer, the biggest being I find the main couple to be very...problematic. And when I say main couple, I'm talking 90% about Bohn. To be frank, I find Bohn pushy, pissy, unpleasant, constantly making his relationship negative, and above all else, manipulative. Bohn and Deun's entire dynamic consists of Bohn getting pissed, storming off and using it to make Deun feel shitty, then turning around and asking for something in return. A few times, this has been implied to mean sex, which is very not ok to me. Moments of sweetness and fluff do not make up for his behavior as much as the writers think, at least, to me. I know we, as a BL audience, are expected to find possessiveness and jealousy cute and endearing, and though I do not, I can handle it in small doses. It's part of the BL formula, I get that. For Bohn and Deun, however, I feel that's all that makes up their relationship at this point.
> 
> In the case of Mek and Boss, that poor actor who played Mek really got screwed. He's Chinese, and I assume is not fluent in Thai, but I feel I really would have enjoyed Mek and Boss's arc if not for those awful dubs. A bad production decision, in my opinion. 
> 
> I actually like Frong and Dr. Thara's relationship thus far. No complaints yet. Let's see where it goes from here. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been sitting on that rant for a hot second, so I'm glad I could at least vent it here. What do you guys think? If you want to chat in the comments, please do. I'd love to hear some other thoughts on all this. 
> 
> If you stuck around for all that, I appreciate it. If not, also appreciate it. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! I have something big coming soon, so stay tuned! Until next time.


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